


Little Red Riding Hoodie

by laudanum_cafe



Series: plena luna [1]
Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Blowjobs, Bottom Patrick, Fairy Tale Retellings, It's more Omegaverse inspired and not ACTUALLY Omegaverse, Little Red Riding Hood AU, M/M, Mention of non-con and rape but it doesn't happen at all, Oblivious Gremlin Patrick, Omega Pete, Omegaverse, Once Upon A Peterick, Shapeshifting, Smut, Top Patrick, Wolf Pete, human Patrick, wolf shapeshifter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-30
Updated: 2019-04-30
Packaged: 2020-02-10 13:31:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18661390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laudanum_cafe/pseuds/laudanum_cafe
Summary: Patrick's grandmother has been MIA for a week now, and his mom is getting worried. Being the good son that he is, Patrick offers to take a trip to his Grandma's house to make sure everything is okay.Then he meets the biggest wolf he has ever seen.





	Little Red Riding Hoodie

**Author's Note:**

> As you can tell by the title, this is a re-telling of that famous fairy tale, Snow White. 
> 
> Just kidding, it's Little Red Riding Hood.

“Patrick? Hello, Rick? Did you hear me?”

 

No, Patrick most certainly did not hear what his mother had been saying. 

 

“My word, what am I gonna do about this boy.” Patricia muttered under her breath, her tone sounding annoyed and exasperated. “Patrick?  _ Rick! _ ”

 

It’s not that Patrick is a bad son. It’s just...well, he’s 17 years old and it’s kinda hard to divide his attention when he’s so focused on eating. He’s a teenager and his appetite is absolutely ravenous right now. Maybe his body is preparing him for that second growth spurt that never happened at age 14 like all the biology books promised. The one he had in 6th grade was awesome, but he kinda hoped he’d pass the five foot, three and a half inch mark.

 

He’s only on his second heaping serving of spaghetti and his hunger is nowhere near being satiated. How can he be expected to pay attention to what his mother is talking about when the very important task of eating is taking place?

 

Patrick’s mother is losing her patience and smacks her hand,  _ slap slap slap,  _ a staccato strike, on the table. It’s obvious that she means business now, so Patrick puts his fork down, finally meeting her eyes.

 

“I’m sorry, Mom. What were you saying?” He asks innocently, casting big blue eyes at her, wiping the splatter of sauce from his mouth with his napkin.

 

Patricia Stumph’s annoyed gaze softens, (only slightly...she knows Patrick’s tricks and she isn’t falling for that bullshit) and she reaches out to gave a quick pat on top of Patrick’s hand. “I was talking about your Grandma Vaughn, dear.”

 

Patrick smiled, picking up his fork to resume eating as he engaged in conversation with his mom. “Oh yeah? How is she? What has been up to these days?” 

 

“Well,” Patricia continues, “I was saying that I actually haven’t heard from her all week. She’s not picking up her phone and I’m starting to get a little concerned.”

 

Grandma Vaughn was a quirky lady. While most people her age have embraced modern technology on some level or other, Grandma Vaughn, or Miss Pamela as everyone else seems to call her, was absolutely not into it in any way whatsoever. She wasn’t opposed to it or anything, though. She never nagged the younger generation about their addictions to electronic devices or gripe about “the good old days” when people would actually interact, or any of that sort of stuff. Actually, she was always rather interested in whatever new gadget the youngsters were into and showed amazing knowledge on how these things worked. 

 

It’s just that Miss Pam didn’t  _ want  _ a cell phone, or cable television, or Netflix. She was fine with the advancement of technology in general, but she just wasn’t interested in embracing it for herself. She preferred the “simple life”. She enjoyed the idea of living mostly off the grid and passing the time working her land. 

 

She did have a laptop, though. It was a gift from the family one Christmas; a top of the line MacBook that was equipped with all sorts of programs and apps so she could keep in touch with the family and the outside world. Unfortunately, she lived in a small, sort of off-the-grid area and a stable WiFi connection didn’t come easily. No matter, Miss Pam was more than content with her quiet, detached, and solitary lifestyle. She liked being all alone on that vast property in the countryside.

 

Besides, she had a perfectly good landline if someone  _ really  _ needed to get in touch with her. 

 

“Maybe she’s busy,” Patrick suggested. “Grandma likes being alone, you know.” 

 

Patrick didn’t like the small look of worry that was stretched over his mom’s face. She didn’t get worked up easily and tended to hide her emotions, so if Patricia was allowing even the slightest bit of anxiety to show, Patrick knew it was probably a little serious. 

 

“I know,” Patricia agreed. “Ma sure does loves her isolation, but she always calls me back, and I haven’t heard from her since last Tuesday.” 

 

Patrick watched as his mom’s gaze wandered off to the far wall and she began unconsciously tapping a one handed beat into the table top. She otherwise remained quiet, deep in thought. When her tapping became more rapid and accompanied by her foot drumming out a complimentary bass tempo, Patrick knew that his mom was  _ worried.  _

 

“Ma,” Patrick reached out and covered his mother’s tapping hand with his own. “Don’t worry about Grandma. I’ll pop in and check up on her tomorrow, okay?”

 

Patricia looked into her son’s eyes, grateful for his understanding and willingness to placate her. “Thank you, baby. I know it’s probably nothing but I can’t help but be concerned. I really can’t miss work at the moment, otherwise I’d go myself.”

 

Patrick smiled, picking up his fork and digging back into his meal. “It’s cool. I’m on break anyways so I don’t have anything to do for the rest of the week. I’ll check in on her and call you to let you know how she’s doing. She’s probably just visiting one of her friends or something and forgot to tell you. I’m sure there’s nothing to worry about.”

 

Patricia nodded as Patrick beamed a smile at her, grateful for her son’s understanding. 

  
  


**

  
  


Patrick loves his grandmother, absolutely adores the quirky lady, but he pretty much despises going to her house for a visit. 

 

First of all, her town is almost a two hour drive away. Patrick’s only been driving for the last 5 months, having failed his driving exam twice when he was sixteen, so he hasn’t had that much practice. For him, just a quick trip into the city was a nerve wracking experience, so a two hour drive had him a bit on edge. 

 

Second, her area is so remote that cell service and WiFi are pretty much non existent. How people managed to take road trips before the invention of cell phones and GPS was beyond him. How the fuck do you know where you’re going??? May have well been driving a fucking horse drawn covered wagon,  _ Little House on the Prairie  _ style, as far as Patrick was concerned. 

 

Thirdly, due to the previous lack of modern technology reason, there’s nothing to do. It’s just so  _ booooooooring.  _

 

And finally, reason D ( _ Hehehehehe,  _ Patrick’s juvenile mind giggles... _ Reason D),  _ ever since Patrick was little, he’s heard all sorts of urban legends about Black Shuck, the legendary Devil Dog that haunts his grandmother’s countryside town.  

 

Black Shuck who would steal your soul. Black Shuck who would kidnap babies as they slept. Black Shuck who would portend your death with just one glance. 

 

There were so many variations of the story of Black Shuck. As he grew older, Patrick pretty much blew off all of these stories and accounts as nothing more than just wildly exaggerated tales about some bootleg Cujo wannabe. 

 

His grandmother was a reclusive anomaly, very much used to living alone and prone to taking off at her whim’s call. She was fiercely independent and didn’t have to answer to anyone. She was most likely perfectly fine and simply forgot to check in with his mom before going off with one of her weirdo, hippie friends or something. 

 

But Patrick was a good son and didn’t want his mom to needlessly worry. Plus, she stuffed a whole wad of cash in his hands for the little road trip so who was he to turn down this opportunity. He didn’t have anything else going on for the remainder of his vacation, other than sleeping in and jerking off (which he very much was looking forward to) but free cash is free cash and he only planned to stay overnight anyways. He’d be back home and jerking off in the comfort of his bedroom in no time (and $90 richer).

 

Patrick packed an overnight bag with the bare essentials; a change of clothes, some books, his overnight toiletries bag, a toothbrush, and, of course, lube (because he definitely wasn’t able to go 24 hours without jerking off a couple of times, come on). 

 

Throwing his backpack in the passenger seat, Patrick started his shitty hatchback and set up his GPS to go to his grandma’s house. 

  
  


**

  
  


Patrick knew that cell service sucked in the surrounding areas around his grandmother’s small town, but for some reason he didn’t think this would affect his phone’s GPS. He was probably another 30 minutes from his destination when Siri cut out and his maps were no longer registering. He kinda, sorta remembered the instructions for the last leg of his journey, but Patrick’s natural sense of direction was  _ notoriously bad.  _ Rather than taking the risk of getting hopelessly, inescapably lost, Patrick decided to pull off into the first cluster of stores he could find. 

 

The town was small, not much more than a few intersecting streets, lined with quaint shops, a Town Hall, a post office, a courthouse, a few churches, a small grocery store, and one gas station/auto repair center/junkyard. Judging from the street signage, this was their Downtown city center, or at least something close to that. It looked almost dead and didn’t feel very welcoming at all. There were a few people milling about outside the grocery store and post office so he knew it wasn’t actually an abandoned ghost town or something, but it was still a little unsettling and creepy. He drove down Main Street and decided to stop inside the most inhabited appearing place to ask for some directions. 

  
  


**

  
  


Patrick pulled into one of the parking spots in front of the grocery store. It looked a bit more like one of those quaint farmer’s markets, he observes as he’s putting the car into park and turning off the engine. There are a few men and women peering at him curiously as he emerges from the car and Patrick nervously ducks his head lower, keeping his eyes safely hidden under the brim of his hat. It’s obvious that he’s sticking out. In a town this small, everyone probably knows each other and they’re curious who this stranger kid is. He’s not dressed in anything flashy, just his usual uniform of T-shirt, jeans, hat, and dirty converse. He looks down and notices that the shirt he’s wearing is his sleep shirt and cringes. It’s heather grey, covered in holes, and has random bleach stains around the shoulders from that one time he was bleaching his hair...but that’s not what concerned him. 

 

It’s the white letters across his chest reading “ **LEGALIZE GAY: Repeal Prop 8 Now!** ” that’s making Patrick feel is the cause for the strange stares. 

 

Whatever. If these small town fuckers have a problem with the gays, they can just go ahead and suck his enormous cock. Ah fuck. Now is  _ not  _ the time to start thinking about blowjobs. Random boners when he’s surrounded by possible small town homophobes isn’t ideal at all. He hopes someone can just quickly point him in the right direction so he can get the fuck out of there already. He really needs to find someplace isolated where he can pull the padge before getting to Grandma Vaughn’s place. 

 

Patrick is a few feet away from the store’s entrance when he stops and quickly turns back towards his car. He’s sporting a LEGALIZE GAY shirt  _ and _ a boner and that combo is just too much. Even for the people that already know him and are fully accepting of his weird quirks and homosexual tendencies, random boners and gay pride shirts is probably a little extra. He climbs back into his car and reaches into his overnight bag for one of the oversized hoodies he packed. It’s his all time favorite one; a simple, double extra large sized, deep red pullover that he found at a Goodwill thrift store for only $5 last year. It’s super soft and so big it not only hides all of his embarrassing baby fat, but perfect for covering up random, unwanted boners. 

 

Patrick tugged the huge red hoodie over his head, replaced his trucker hat, and got back out of the car. With a tug down the front to make sure his crotch area was covered, Patrick headed back into the store to see if he could find someone to give him directions to Grandma’s house. 

  
  


**

  
  


“Oh, yes! Of course we know where Miss Pam lives. Don’t tell me you’re her grandson! Oh my! Hey, Donna! Come over here! This is Miss Pam’s darling grandson she’s always talking about!”

 

Patrick felt his cheeks start to blaze a hot flush of red. He wasn’t at all expecting to be received so warmly by the townsfolk. He was actually expecting to be appraised coldly and brushed off with a “Sorry, kid. We don’t know where she lives. Why don’t you try the next town over?”

 

Apparently, his grandmother was well known and much loved in this part of town. 

 

The middle-aged woman he approached in the market for directions had the friendliest face and Patrick held his breath as he walked over to her. The moment he squeaked out a shy, “Excuse me, ma’am? I’m a bit lost and hoping you could help me find my way to my Grandma Vaughn’s place? She should live near here but my GPS cut out,” the woman he approached just lit up like a Christmas tree. 

 

Next thing Patrick knew, he’s being surrounded by a clutch of middle aged moms, all of them cooing, petting his shoulders, and lightly fingering at the long, shaggy locks of dirty strawberry blond hair that was bursting out from under his trucker cap. 

 

_ His trucker cap _ . Shit. He realized a bit too late that his current choice in head wear was pretty inappropriate. He  _ totally  _ forgot to take off his hat before he walked in and was now frozen in his tracks when one of the members of the Midwest Mom Squad peered at his cap to read “SAVE A HORSE, RIDE A BEAR” with a look of bemused confusion on her face. 

 

“ _ Ride a bear?”  _ the nice, and thankfully oblivious, woman read, shaking her head. “I simply don’t understand the humor of you kids. Is this from a movie or something?”

 

“Um, yeah. Something like that.” Patrick answered in an embarrassed mumble, pleased that the meaning of the cartoon bear with the stripes of the LGBT Bear Pride flag colors, went over their heads.

 

One of the moms made her way into the maternal circle surrounding Patrick and pressed a cup into his hand (some sort of green organic smoothie that looked  _ super gross _ ),telling him he looked “a bit peaky”, voicing her concern that he wasn’t getting the proper nutrients, and to “drink up, it’s good for you!”

 

His initial fears of being judged and chased out of town were so far from the reality at hand. 

 

Patrick was starting to get overwhelmed and flustered over all the unexpected attention he was receiving. All he was hoping for was to quickly get some directions, preferably without judgement or confrontation, and be about his merry way. Not that he wasn’t grateful for the warm reception. He just wanted to get going. 

 

The kind-faced, blonde woman that he initially approached seemed to sense his wariness and started to break up the clucking cluster of brooding hens. “Okay, okay ladies. Give Pam’s boy some room to breathe. He just came in looking for directions. I think we’re giving him a panic attack.” The moms backed off a little, giving Patrick some room to breathe, but didn’t leave just yet. 

 

“Now, Patrick. Come with me and I’ll write down her directions. It’s a little tricky getting there. She’s not far, but she lives adjacent to the woods so you’ll have to go a good ways around that area to get to her property.”

 

They walked over to a cute little courtyard area that looked to be a kind of kitschy, country food court. Taking a seat, the lady (who had insisted that Patrick simply call her Miss Tanya), took out a small notebook from the depths of her huge purse and started to write out directions, even drawing a little map of the area. She repeated her directions several times to ensure Patrick had them committed to memory in case he lost the slip of paper on the long journey from the farmer’s market to his car (Miss Tanya has two teenage boys of her own at home, was  _ very  _ familiar with their tendency to lose things mere moments after having them in their hands, and also knows that their attention span is about 45 seconds to one minute,  _ at most.)  _

 

“Now, remember what I said about avoiding the woods, Patrick. You hear me? That area is  _ very  _ dangerous and you need to make sure you stay away from there. I know Miss Pam has lived next to it for as long as we’ve known her with no problems, but you don’t want to risk running into Black Shuck, so you keep your wandering down to her property line and keep yourself safe.”

 

Patrick did his best to keep from rolling his eyes. The legend of Black Shuck was one he’s heard since his childhood. Tales of a gigantic, ghostly black dog that lived in the woods that were next to his Grandmother’s home. When he was little, Patrick feared the possibility of the devil dog stealing him away from his bed whenever he would spend the night there. His older brother and sister liked to terrorize him with the tales of the sinister beast that lived in the woods. But his grandmother would always take him aside, soothe his tears, and tell him that the tales were greatly exaggerated. She would also tell him that yes, there are wolves in the woods, but assured Patrick that the urban legend of Black Shuck was simply not true. 

 

“Ignorance and fear breed the greatest dangers, Patrick. Just remember that.” Grandma Vaughn would tell him as she fed him cookies and soothed his fears. 

 

Knowing that Miss Tanya meant well and probably didn’t know any better by perpetuating these tall tales of the Devil Dog, Patrick smiled and assured her he would heed her warning. 

 

As she walked him to his car, a few of the ladies came out and handed him a large paper bag filled with a variety of goods from the farmer’s market. “We haven’t seen Miss Pam this week and these are the items she picks up when she comes in on Sundays. Please give them to her and tell we missed her at the last jam session.” 

 

Patrick had a fleeting imagining of his grandma in a punk band, banging out a sick riff on a drum set, before he realized they meant “jam session” as in the  _ fruit preserves  _ variety.  __

 

After a few more goodbyes, Patrick was finally off to his grandmother’s house. 

  
  
  


**

  
  


It didn’t take too long to finally arrive at his destination. The little map that Miss Tanya drew was a fucking  _ life saver.  _ Patrick’s sense of direction was notoriously bad, to the point where he would literally get lost going just down the street and around the corner to the Taco Bell that’s been by his house for as long as he could remember. 

 

Patrick parked his car, grabbed his backpack and the care package from the Farmer’s Market Squad, and headed in. His grandmother never locked her doors when she was around, so when Patrick turned the knob and found it to open, he took that as a good sign. He knew where the spare key was hidden away, but if she had locked up and left, it would have made him more worried. 

 

“Grandma? Hello? Are you home? It’s me, Patrick?” He called out as he placed his belongings down on the little dinner table next to the kitchen. 

 

The house was completely quiet. Her place wasn’t too big but if she was in the bedroom, she’d have had a hard time hearing him from the entryway. Before heading back to the area where the bedrooms were located, Patrick took the paper bag from the market ladies into the kitchen to unpack. There were some items that needed to be refrigerated and if he didn’t do it right away, he would forget completely. The last thing he wanted was for his grandmother’s goods to go bad and have his seemingly stellar reputation become tarnished with the Midwest Mom Squad.

 

Once that was done, Patrick made his way towards the back of her home. It was all one level and spread out.  _ Ranch-style,  _ he thought to himself, remembering all of those shows on HGTV his mom would watch while he did his homework in the living room. 

 

His grandmother’s room was empty so he figured she was somewhere on the property. She had a pretty large parcel of land that she liked to tend to by herself, so it wouldn’t be odd for her to outside for a while. He was sure that she would see his car parked outside when she came back and wouldn’t be startled when she did come home. 

 

Thinking he was just going to get comfortable and camp out in the living room for a while, Patrick closed his grandmother’s bedroom door to head back out to the front. He was passing by the guest bedroom that was usually his when he stayed over and heard a strange noise coming from inside. The door was halfway open, so he pushed it in all the way and poked his head in. 

 

“Hello? Grandma? Are you in here?”

 

No response.

 

Patrick was about to close the door behind him and leave when he heard that noise again. He went into the room and turned on the light. The curtains, which were usually always open to let in the natural sunlight, were drawn closed and the room was too dark to see. When he flipped the switch, and the room flooded with light, he saw the source of the strange noise.

 

Curled up on top of the bed was a huge, black dog. It flinched away from the light and started to whimper and whine, appearing to be very afraid. Patrick saw that it’s shoulder was covered in a bunch of bloody gauze bandages and it seemed to have trouble moving around. 

 

Patrick took a few steps closer to the dog, curious about it, but that only made the animal back up closer to the wall, baring its teeth as a warning. The movement obviously hurt it and it wasn’t able to put any weight on the injured leg. Patrick’s heart went out to the poor thing. 

 

“Hey, buddy. Shh, shh, don’t worry. I’m not gonna hurt you. It’s okay.” Patrick slowly crept closer to the poor dog, hands out to show he wasn’t a threat. The dog wasn’t growling, but still had its teeth bared and hunched painfully in a defensive stance. 

 

Patrick managed to come right up to the edge of the bed and offered one palm to the pup to smell. It looked up at Patrick with the most soulful brown eyes for a moment before lowering it’s snout just a bit to sniff. It huffed a few times and whined, before the tip of it’s pretty pink tongue took a quick lick at his palm. 

 

“See? I’m not gonna hurt you. That’s a good girl.” The dog’s ears immediately perked up and shook it’s head, exuding such a human-like expression that Patrick felt the dog actually understood his words and was...disagreeing? 

 

“Not a girl? Okay. Umm, are you a boy?” The black dog let out a soft  _ wuff  _ and perked it’s head up, panting and patting the top of the bed with its good paw. 

 

“Sorry for misgendering you, buddy. Kinda hard to tell without looking down there to see if you got boy bits or not.” 

 

The replying  _ wuff  _ that the dog gave to that remark sounded eerily like a human laugh. Patrick huffed out an amused laugh of his own and tangled his fingers in the dog’s thick, black fur, scratching at the skin buried under the shaggy hair. “You’re a pretty boy, aren’t you? Where did you come from, huh? Did Grandma find you and take care of you? How did you get hurt, boy? Oh fuck, did Black Shuck attack you?” Patrick’s fingers stilled as he looked at the bandaged injury on the dog’s shoulder. 

 

Nah, Black Shuck is just a legend. But maybe…

 

Maybe Black Shuck the Devil Dog was just a myth, but his grandmother’s home was adjacent to a huge expanse of unbuilt-upon natural forest, and in this area of the Midwest, wolves were indigenous, so it wouldn’t be unlikely that this poor pup got lost in the woods and maybe got into a fight with a wolf or something. Even though this sweet, black dog was absolutely  _ huge _ (and we’re talking direwolf big), it still appeared to be domesticated to some extent, and probably didn’t stand a chance against a feral wolf, or pack of wolves. 

 

His cousin, Thomas, had this fucking  _ enormous  _ dog; an Irish Wolfhound, named Cailean. Patrick remembered being so intimidated of her when he first met the dog, but within fifteen minutes, he realized that Cailean was the definition of “gentle giant”. Patrick remembered watching in wonder as three of the younger cousins tried to climb upon her back and throw themselves all over her. She was the most patient, gentle, quiet dog that Patrick had ever encountered. 

 

This giant black dog that he was currently petting reminded him of his cousin’s Irish Wolfhound, but even though they shared similarities in sweet temperament and enormous size, it was obvious from his features that this was a very different breed. 

 

Patrick continued to pet the sweet pup as his mind wandered. The dog seemed to be making himself at home here in the guest room so Patrick figured they’d have to share the space. 

 

“Well, looks like we’re gonna be roommates tonight, buddy. Hope you don’t mind, but this is the room I always sleep in when I stay here.” The black dog looked up at Patrick’s face, tongue lolling out as he huffed, leaning up to give a quick lick to Patrick’s chin. 

 

“I’m glad you’re okay that, bud. Okay, so I’m gonna get my stuff and settle in. Oh shit, I should probably call my mom and let her know what’s going on. I’ll be back in a few minutes, boy.” Patrick stood up and pet the dog on his head. Seeing that Patrick was moving to leave the room, the dog sat up and made as if to move off the bed and follow. The movement was obviously painful for the pup, so Patrick tried helping him a bit. Once on the floor, the dog was able to follow Patrick to the living room, and take a seat at his feet as he sat on the couch to call his mom from the landline. 

 

Patrick dialed his mom’s cell phone number (one of the few phone numbers he had actually committed to memory), and waited as the line began to ring. Even seated on the floor, the dog was large enough that he could easily rest his enormous head on Patrick’s lap. Patrick smiled down at the pup’s soulful honey brown eyes and scritched him behind the ears.

 

_ “Hello? Mom?” _

 

“Hey, Ma. No, it’s me, Patrick. Hey.”

 

_ “Oh, hello baby. I take it you got to Grandma’s place safely. Is everything okay over there? How is she?” _

 

“Everything is good, Mom. Grandma isn’t home yet but the door was unlocked so she’s probably just out or something. I don’t feel like there’s anything bad going on.”

 

_ “Oh, that is so good to hear. I was getting pretty worried after not hearing from her all week. Are you sure there’s nothing bad going on?” _

 

“I’m sure, Mom. She has a dog here right now so I don’t think she’d be gone for too long when she has to take care of him.”

 

_ “A dog? What in the world is she doing with a dog?” _

 

“I dunno, but he’s injured so maybe she found him in the woods or something and took him in. Maybe that’s why you haven’t heard from her. She’s been busy taking care of the dog or something.”

 

_ “Yeah, that does sound like your grandmother. Always taking in any stray that she comes across.” _

 

“I don’t know if he’s actually a stray dog. He’s fucking  _ huge _ , Ma. He’s super sweet and friendly and I’ve never seen a dog like this before.”

 

_ “Watch your language, young man.” _

 

“Sorry, sorry. But yeah, that’s what’s going on here. I just wanted to call and check in with you. I’m gonna hang around and wait for Grandma to get home. I’ll tell her to call you when I see her later. I’m just gonna hang out with the dog for now. He’s fu--, I mean, he’s freaking  _ cool _ .”

 

_ “Okay, baby. Be good and call me later. Have fun while you’re there. I love you, Rick.” _

 

“I love you, too, Ma. Bye.”

 

Patrick hung up and placed the phone back on the table beside the couch. The dog sat up and pawed at Patrick’s thighs, moving over as if he wanted to jump up and sit on his lap, but the injury on his shoulder was hindering his movements. “Careful, buddy. Don’t hurt yourself. Sit. Stay.”

 

The dog looked up at Patrick with sad puppy eyes and whined, slowly raising his good paw up to touch Patrick’s lap again. 

 

“You sure are a clingy fella, aren’t you? Huh? Who’s a cuddly boy?” The dog’s ears perked up and he let out a sharp, happy bark in reply. “That’s right, you are! Good boy! Such a good boy!”

 

Patrick sat down on the floor to play and cuddle with the dog. After a while of bonding, Patrick stood up to put his stuff away in the guest room and take a much needed shower. He had gone a couple of days not bathing and just being lazy at home, and he didn’t want to stink when his grandmother finally got home. He’d never hear the end of it. 

 

He made quick work of tossing his stuff into the chest of drawers in the guest bedroom and then headed into the bathroom across the hall to take a quick shower. Patrick started the water and stripped down, inspecting his face and upper body in the mirror over the sink while the water heated. The  _ click click click  _ of nails on the hardwood floors outside the bathroom announced the arrival of the dog, who quickly seemed to have grown inseparable from Patrick. He could see in the reflection of the mirror when the dog made it to the doorway, stopping abruptly and looking up at Patrick standing in front of the mirror above the sink. 

 

“Hey, buddy. I’m just gonna take a quick shower. Don’t worry, I’m not leaving you alone.” Patrick smiled when the dog looked up at him and seemed to smile, huge tongue lolling about, drool starting to escape from the sides of his mouth. He gave a quick pet to the top of the pup’s head and the dog leaned in close, sniffing excitedly at his naked crotch. 

 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Patrick yelped, pushing the dog’s head away. “I think that’s a bit much right now, dude. Back. Sit. Stay?”

 

The dog had the decency to appear embarrassed and sat back on his haunches, turning his head to lap at the bandages covering his shoulder wound. Reaching into the shower, Patrick tested to see if the water was hot enough for his liking. Finding it met his standard, he stepped in, and closed the semi-opaque glass door. 

 

The first sprays of hot water cascaded over Patrick’s skin, instantly turning his shoulders a bright pink. He groaned at the delicious, relaxing feel of the water, and began his usual cleaning routine. Mind wandering, voice tripping out random bits of song, Patrick’s entire mind and body felt like it was melting into a soft goo. For the life of him, he couldn’t remember why he would always be so belligerent about showering. He would go days without bathing, his body and clothes collecting so much boy stink that his friends and family would threaten to tie him up in the yard and turn the hose on him. He wasn’t trying to make a statement, or take the piss out of anyone. He was just  _ that  _ lazy and forgetful. 

 

Oh, but when he did get into a shower that had the right amount of pressure and the water was almost scalding hot, Patrick would stay in there for as long as possible, relishing the feeling, and cleaning every inch of his body with meticulous detail. 

 

At this very moment, Patrick’s full attention was directed to the need of his cock. He had been popping a random boner off and on for the duration of his drive here, and now that he had a moment to himself, he could  _ finally  _ allow his mind to wander over some of his favorite X-rated material while he started to tease himself.

 

His mental catalogue was plentiful. It had to be since he could count the number of actual, physical experiences on one hand. To be exact, his number of experiences was two. 

 

The first time was when he 14 years old. He and his buddy from creative writing class, Anthony Randazzo, gave each other handjobs in the back of an almost empty movie theatre that was playing Wayne’s World 2. 

 

The second experience was this one time he gave a half accomplished blowjob to some hot, Latino kid from his 2nd period science class, known only as “Pan de Amor”, in the backseat of a car parked in the alley next to Denny’s. And by “half accomplished blowjob”, meaning Patrick nutted in his pants two minutes into wrapping his mouth around the kid’s dick and accidentally used too much teeth which resulted in Pan de Amor shoving Patrick away with an embarrassing, “It be okay,  _ jovencito _ .  _ Tal vez _ another time.”

 

What Patrick lacked in actual, real life experience, he more than made up with a wild imagination and an extensive collection of all sorts of internet porn. 

 

Pulling up a wonderful assortment of some of his favorite images, Patrick continued to stroke faster, bringing himself closer to the edge. There was no time to savor it; his grandmother could come home at any moment and the last thing he wanted was to be interrupted or get caught. He left the bathroom door open so he’d be able to hear if his grandmother came home, but he really  didn’t want her to arrive before he...arrived. 

 

_ Okay, okay, okay...stop thinking about Grandma.  _ Patrick shifted his thoughts back to his Spank Bank, pulling up a particular favorite image of a hot, muscular boy, covered in tattoos and tanned skin, hauling him down to the edge of the bed, throwing his pale legs over those taught and tan shoulders, spreading his ass cheeks with fervor, burying his face between his buttocks, inhaling, growling with barely suppressed control, diving in headfirst, lapping, fingering, moaning…

 

Patrick took the hand that was supporting his weight against the shower wall and pressed up into taint, massaging the muscle while furiously beating off. With a moan and a yell, he sprayed his jizz across the shower door, panting and trying to catch his breath. 

 

Once he was able to regain usage of his limbs, Patrick quickly finished his shower, and stepped out to get dressed.

  
  


**

  
  


Eventually, the sun was starting to set and Patrick’s grandmother still hadn’t gotten home. He promised his mom that he would call in the evening with an update but he didn’t want to call her until he had some actual good news to relay. His mom was a Level 5 Worrier. Anything set her off. He just knew that his grandmother was fine but there would be no way to convince his mom of that. So instead of calling home, Patrick set about to make some dinner and hang out with the dog until his grandmother arrived. 

 

Patrick puttered around the kitchen, putting together a quick meal for himself, and realized the dog didn’t have a food bowl out. Searching the cabinets and pantry, he realized there was no dog food for the pup, who was starting up at him with sweet eyes as he ate his food. He had made a huge plate so he just gave half of his meal to the dog, who gobbled it up happily.

 

After dinner, Patrick grabbed the first aid kit from under the bathroom sink and set about to tend to the dog’s injuries. He was walking with greater ease as the hours passed, able to put more weight on his left front leg, and seeming to be healing at an amazingly fast rate. 

 

Taking the medical kit, some paper towels, cotton balls, and a bottle of hydrogen peroxide, Patrick headed back into his room with the dog following closely at his heels. 

 

“Come here, buddy. That’s a good boy.” Patrick praised as the dog easily lowered himself alongside him on the floor, stretching out so his injured left shoulder was easily accessible. “Okay, I’m just gonna take off these bandages and clean out your wound. I’ll do my best to be careful and not hurt you, okay? Please don’t bite me if it stings a little.”

 

The dog turned his massive head to look Patrick in the eyes and huffed. That was good enough of an agreement to Patrick as any. “Alright, Good Boy. Let’s take a look at your shoulder.”

 

Patrick was as careful as he could be, pulling the adhesive tape off easily (most of the fur was missing from the area), and began to tug at the gauze that covered the injury. It stuck a bit, congealed blood holding the material in place. 

 

“I’m so sorry, bud. I’m gonna yank on this real quick. It’s probably gonna tear the scab and hurt a little, okay? Ready?” The dog whined but licked at Patrick’s chin, seemingly calm enough. 

 

“Okay, one, two, three.” Patrick pulled the gauze away with a quick flick of his wrist. The dog stayed still, not making a sound, but turned his head to start licking at the wound. It started to bleed a little but for the most part seemed almost completely healed. While the dog tended to himself, Patrick took a few cotton balls, soaked them in hydrogen peroxide, and gently pushed the dog’s head away so he could clean up the injury. 

 

There was a lot of dried blood that flaked away as he cleaned the area, and soon he could make out some large tears in the skin that were in the obvious shape of some very large teeth. 

 

“Poor boy. You got attacked by some big ass animal, huh?” The dog whined mournfully, watching Patrick with those beautiful hazel eyes. “You’re such a sweet boy. Doing so good for me. Almost done. Looks like you won’t need a new bandage. It’s pretty closed up already. We should just let it breathe after I clean it off, okay bud?”

 

The dog licked Patrick’s face and thumped his tail contently against the hardwood floors. Once he was done meticulously cleaning off the area, Patrick stood up to clean up and put the first aid supplies away. 

 

Soon he was back in his room, where the pup had made himself comfortable on the bed. “Yeah, I think you’re right. It is pretty late. We should just get some sleep.”

 

Patrick stripped off his jeans and crawled into bed in his t-shirt and boxers, pushing the dog over as he tried to get comfortable. “Shove over, boy. This may be a double bed but you’re  _ huge.  _ Come on, move over. I need some room, too.”

 

The dog hesitantly sat up, allowing Patrick to get into bed and find a comfortable position. Once he was done, he reached over to turn off the light and settle in for sleep. As soon as he had his head down on the pillow, the dog curled up along his side, resting his huge head on top of Patrick’s chest, nudging up at the human’s chin. 

 

Patrick smiled at started petting the pup as he drifted off to sleep. “Good night, bud. You’re such a good boy.”

  
  


**

  
  


Patrick usually didn’t wake up til the crack of afternoon but something was nudging him to awaken earlier than usual. He could tell it was probably around eight or nine in the morning, based on the amount of sunlight that was seeping in from the windows. Peering his eyes open just a crack,he could see that the room was fully illuminated, but still a bit dim. It was the soft light of an early-ish morning and not the harsh brightness that the afternoon sunshine brings. He closed his eyes again, figuring he’d be able to get a few more hours of sleep in. Patrick shifted his shoulders a little, stretched his legs out, moaned when the vertebrates in his back straightened and popped, gave his balls a quick scratch, and settled back into the mattress. 

 

The dog still had his head buried under his chin, so Patrick turned to the left, nuzzling his face in the dark fur. Which...seemed much softer and thinner than yesterday...and didn’t quite have the musky smell of dog anymore, and instead had the enticingly musky smell of  _ unwashed boy _ . It took a few seconds to really comprehend this fact, but then Patrick felt the soft movements of fingertips under his shirt and along the sensitive skin of chest and belly, and his eyes slammed wide open, body going rigid as he realized some _ one _ was cuddled up next to him. 

 

“G'morning.” A sleepy, husky voice mumbled against his chest. “Don’t freak out. I can explain everything.”

 

“Umm.” Patrick was rigid and still, frozen in place by a very confusing mix of fear and arousal. Fear, because he went to sleep with a giant dog and woke up with a strange man. _Duh._ Arousal, because we woke up with a strange _naked man_ who was pressed all up along his side with a hand up his shirt, stroking his skin, and it was just so fucking _erotic._ Patrick’s left hand was on the guy’s bare shoulder and the guy’s hips were pressed up against his side and the guy’s _hard_ _dick_ was pressed up against his outer thigh and...dude, Patrick’s morning wood/fear boner jumped in excitement. 

 

“So, you may be wondering why there’s a naked dude in your bed, huh?” Said naked dude asked. 

 

“I mean, yeah. It’s crossed my mind.” Patrick was so confused. Part of him wanted to jump out of bed and hide, and another part of him wanted to strip off his shirt and boxers and drive his dick deep inside this guy. “Uhhh, it’s just. I’ve never woken up to a stranger in my bed before.”

 

The naked guy propped himself up on his elbow and scowled at Patrick. “Stranger? That’s...dude we spent  _ all day  _ together yesterday. I thought we bonded! What the fuck?”

 

Those words seemed to make something click into place inside of Patrick’s head. It made sense, and just felt right for some fucking reason. Yes, this was someone he bonded with. Yes, he did know this naked stranger. Yes, the ache in this teeth to bite down onto that tanned shoulder and pummel his cock deep inside of him was exactly what he was supposed to be doing. 

 

Somehow, and with great effort, Patrick forced the few remaining rational brain cells to double their efforts against these overpowering waves of animal instinct. “You’re Black Shuck, aren’t you? You’re not a ghost dog. You’re a werewolf.”

 

Naked Guy smiled, relaxing a little when he felt that Patrick was not going to bolt. “Shapeshifter, actually. Werewolves aren’t indigenous to this part of the Americas.” Naked Guy grinned at Patrick’s confused, blank face. “And no, I am definitely not Black Shuck. I don’t even know how that urban legend got started for this little town. That’s a hella old legend from the UK.” 

 

“Right. That...that makes sense. I see.” 

 

Naked Guy lowered himself back down into snuggling position, rubbing his cheek against Patrick’s chest, and then looked back up at him. “Exactly. I’m glad you get it. Mmm, you smell  _ good _ .”

 

And that was it for Patrick. Those last few rational brain cells we just mentioned? Well, animal instinct just kicked down the door and flooded the basement. Patrick forced his body to remain as still as possible while his mind went haywire. “Hey,” he managed to rasp out. “What’s your name, anyways?”

 

Naked Guy sat up a little on his elbows again, peering into Patrick’s face. The Shapeshifter could see the minute changes going on with the kid beside him, could see sea-colored eyes turn to black as his pupils expanded, could smell the waves of lust pouring off of his clammy, pale skin. “My name is Pete.”

 

With a speed and grace that Patrick normally didn’t possess, he lunged forward, flipping their positions, pinning Pete beneath him, one hand on a firm, meaty shoulder and the other gripping a handful of thick, black hair. He lowered himself down slowly at this point, lips almost connected but just panting hot breaths into each other’s mouths. Patrick shifted his hips, pressing his hard cock down onto Pete’s matching one, growling. “ _ Pete,”  _ he rumbled, grinding his hips. “Such a good boy _.  _ I’m Patrick, by the way.” Patrick let go of Pete’s shoulder, scraping his nails down, down, down, before wrapping his fist around Pete’s cock. “Now you know what to scream when I take you apart.”

 

Patrick stroked Pete’s cock, light and teasing, squeezing at the base as the Shapeshifter threw his head back, moaning and muttering, “Patrick, Patrick, Patrick,  _ Patrick!” _

 

The way this man was falling apart so quickly was making Patrick lose his mind. He was just an inexperienced teenager with only two sort-of sexual experiences under his belt. Both of those times he was over eager, nervous, fumbling, and awkward, but with this stunning creature writing beneath him...it was hard to explain. Everything felt right and natural, some sort of muscle memory, second nature, primal instinct completely taking over and allowing him to move and react in ways he’s never experienced before. Patrick and Pete were making out; sloppy, desperate,  _ perfect,  _ as Patrick worked his hand around over Pete’s dick. He pulled his mouth away, moving over to leave nips on the underside of his jaw, sucking bright, blooming bruises along the delicate skin of his neck. 

 

Claiming. Marking. Possessing.

 

It was oddly familiar. Like coming home. 

 

Patrick was lost in these sensations, riding the waves of an ancient, feral desire, but was brought back when he realized Pete was pulling desperately at his clothing, begging. “Please, please, please...take these off...off...please...oh gods,  _ please!  _ I can’t...I  _ need!” _

 

“I know, I know. Me, too, Pete.”

 

Pete closed his eyes and sighed in relief. “Thank you, thank you...please!”    
  


Realizing he really needed to get out of his clothes, Patrick pulled away from Pete, gazing down at all that naked flesh. “Jesus fucking hell, you are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen in my entire fucking  _ life.  _ And I have seen a  _ lot  _ of porn.”

 

Pete just laughed, eyes squinting a little as he did so. “Oh, yeah? Is that right now?” He couldn’t help but feel pleased with himself, wanting nothing more than to entice this boy ( _ my Mate,  _ Pete’s mind screamed). He put one arm behind his head, sliding his other hand down his chest and abs, legs falling open in clear invitation as he began to scratch at the dark curls of hair at the base of his dick. 

 

“Fuck,” Patrick couldn’t get his clothes off fast enough, but he soon was free of all those barriers, and practically throwing himself on top of Pete.

 

He slotted himself easily between Pete’s thighs, pressing himself to cover Pete with as much of himself as possible; rubbing, grinding, grabbing, kissing. “Fuck, Pete,” Patrick hissed out between kisses. “I’ve never done this before and I don’t know how long I’m going to last, but I swear to all the gods, I’m going to make this so fucking good for you, baby.”

 

Pete was hanging onto Patrick’s back, digging nails into his skin, clinging on tight...hearing the endearment  _ baby  _ falling so easily from those plush, sinful lips made Pete’s entire body sing with excitement. “I’ve...I’ve never done this before, either. I’ve been waiting. I’ve been waiting for you. I knew if I just held out...if I was patient...that I’d find you.” 

 

None of those words made any sense to Patrick, yet everything he was relaying felt so fucking right and true. Whatever. There would be plenty of time to talk things out later. Right now, they were both clearly on the same page. Words could wait. They were understanding each other in a way that was beyond verbal communication.

 

“Okay, okay. I’m here.” Patrick kissed Pete again, ardently, passionately. He  _ had  _ to force himself to slow down, just a little bit, unless he really did lose it and come from all the dry humping they were doing. 

 

Which would be amazing, don’t get things wrong, but they both wanted,  _ needed,  _ much more than that. 

 

Patrick’s feral reptile brain was thrumming with a repetitive chorus:  **_Bite Take Mark Mate Bite Take Mark Mate Bite Take Mark Mate Bite Take Mark Mate..._ **

 

“Patrick, Patrick, Patrick...come on, please. I can’t take it anymore. Please! I’m so fucking wet for you.”

 

Okay. So maybe as far as dirty talk goes, that was a little weird. It was a stereotypical porno line, so it  _ did _ trigger him to have a positive response, but it was coming from  _ a dude  _ so it was just a little strange. Eh, no matter. Maybe it was just a kink of Pete’s, but now was  _ not  _ the time to pause things to discuss a person’s preference in dirty talk. It did, however, make him realize that he had neglected to collect a very vital item if sex was going to happen, and unfortunately his backpack was all the way on the other side of the room.

 

Patrick reluctantly, and with so much instantaneous regret, rolled off of Pete and moved to the edge of the bed. Right as he was about to stand up, Pete grabbed his wrist, pulling him back. “No, no, no, where are you going?”

 

“I’m just going to grab my lube. It’s in my bag.” Patrick said, waving a hand in the general direction of the opposite side of the room. 

 

Pete rolled his eyes and pulled on his wrist even harder. “You don’t need that shit, dude. I told you. I’m already  _ wet _ .” Pete gave one more forceful tug, and placed Patrick’s hand between his spread legs, pressing Patrick’s fingers against his hole...which was actually wet and leaking a substance that felt exactly like lube. 

 

“What the fuck?”

 

Pete smirked as Patrick’s curious fingers started to work around his rim. “It’s slick. I’m an Omega. I produce slick when we mate.”

 

Patrick had no fucking clue what Pete was talking about but he didn’t even care at this point. All he could think was  _ Pete can self lubricate  _ which meant it was time for  **_Bite Take Mark Mate._ **

 

He knew there was going to be a lot of questions later, but for right now, Patrick was happy to let his instincts take over and run the show. He crawled back up Pete’s body and using the slick that was still on his hand, started to coat his own dick. Something told him to sit back and make a show of stroking himself while fingering Pete open. He wanted to make this beautiful man writhe, scream, and beg.  _ Maybe next time, after we’ve caught our breaths...shouldn’t take too long to get it back up again.  _ Fuck, Patrick had so many wonderful ideas of what they needed to do in the time they had together. For now, this was more than enough. 

 

He gave a few more teasing strokes to his dick, then lined himself up. Pete immediately wrapped his legs around Patrick’s back, pressing him forward, urging him to, “Come on, come on, put it in already.” 

 

Fuck, Patrick was definitely more than willing oblige. 

 

He sank in completely, giving Pete no time for adjustment. Knowing that it was both their first times for something like this (which, how the everloving  _ fuck  _ could that shit be true for Pete?) eased Patrick’s insecurities and performance anxiety. Pete actually seemed more eager and thirsty for this than Patrick.

 

Once he started moving, they were able to establish a very pleasing rhythm. It was all coming naturally and the build up was exquisite. Fucking someone was definitely different to humping his pillows, but Patrick was able to figure out which angles worked out the best for both of them. Pete was fucking  _ vocal _ right from the jump, moaning all sorts of dirty talk and letting loose some beautiful screams when Patrick did something just right. For Patrick, it was  _ all  _ good, but hearing Pete’s cries of ecstasy, that was the best part of all. 

 

They were building a momentum, Patrick’s hips thrashing faster, and Pete angelling himself to match every thrust. Patrick slowed for just a second, pulling the vice grip of Pete’s legs apart from around his back, and pushed his legs closed and up, throwing those muscular legs over his sweat slicked shoulders. Pete responded  _ very well  _ to the angle change, screaming as Patrick’s dick drove even deeper inside of him. Grazing against his prostate with every single thrust. 

 

Pete was a hair away from losing it, no longer able to meet Patrick’s thrusts, and instead becoming a mindless mass of nerve endings, screaming at the top of his lungs, “I’m gonna come!  _ Oh my fucking god, I’m gonna come! Give me your knot! Knot me! Bite me, Alpha! Knot...knot...give me your knot!” _

 

Okay, Patrick had no clue what the fuck Pete meant by  _ giving him a knot,  _ but he very clearly understood  _ gonna come  _ and  _ bite me.  _

 

“Touch your dick, Peter.” Patrick growled right before doubling his efforts, speeding up his hips, and leaning over to bite, latching viciously right onto Pete’s sternocleidomastoid, as he fucked desperately into Pete. 

 

It only took a few sloppy pulls at Pete’s dick before he was coming, screaming all sorts of nonsense as his jizz shot out between their bodies. Patrick was holding his breath, biting and fucking, silently praying that Pete would come first. So when he did, Patrick relaxed his jaw, opened his mouth against Pete’s bruised neck, letting loose a deep and guttural scream as he emptied himself deep into Pete’s ass.    

 

It was fucking perfect. 

 

They stayed like that for a while; sweaty, dirty, covered in spunk. Just basking in the afterglow and catching their breaths. When Patrick’s dick softened and slid out of Pete, he finally rolled over, releasing Pete from the confines of his full, dead weight, but cuddling him close.

 

“I didn’t take you for a snuggler.” Pete snarked as Patrick pulled him close with very strong and forceful arms. 

 

“Shush. No talking yet. Quick nap. Then more sexing. Then talk.” Patrick’s voice was muffled, his face being buried in Pete’s chest, but the older man was able to hear him just fine and gladly conceded. 

  
  


**

  
  


Eventually, they managed to stop their activities and find their way into the shower. And yeah, maybe the shower resulted in Patrick getting his ass eaten for the first time and then a round four, but they did eventually get clean. 

 

They sure made up for a lot of lost time, experience wise. 

 

Pete was in the kitchen fixing them something to eat while Patrick ran a load of laundry after changing the sheets in the guest bedroom. Pete assured him that Miss Pam wasn’t due back for another day but Patrick wanted to make absolutely sure the wash was done long before she arrived. 

 

Once the dryer was started, Patrick went into the kitchen. Pete had a sandwich station on the counter and was just finishing mopping the floors. Patrick’s cheeks pinked, feeling a tad guilty that only 20 minutes ago, he was bent over that countertop, screaming for his life, as Pete fucked him. 

 

“I hope you disinfected the counters, dude. I don’t think it’s sanitary to have all that food out after what we just did.”

 

Pete leered, putting the mop and bucket away in the supply pantry. “I did, I promise. If it was my place, I’d have probably procrastinated. But since it’s Miss Pam’s place, I’m going to make absolutely sure everything is spotless. I owe her a lot for saving my ass. Literally.”

 

Patrick sat down at the kitchen table as he watched Pete wash his hands and go back to preparing their lunch. “Yeah, so I guess now would be the time to actually talk?” Pete looked over at him, appearing panicked and slightly pale. “I mean, nothing bad. I don’t regret  _ anything  _ we’ve done. I just...I mean...like, what’s the deal? You obviously know my grandmother really well. You know all about what she’s been up to this past week. Oh, and like, you were a dog? Like, I’m kinda a little curious about things, you know?”

 

“So, wait. You don’t know  _ anything  _ about your grandmother’s involvement in the Pack?” Pete placed a plate in front of Patrick, piled high with a sandwich and some chips, taking the seat across. “Like, nothing at all?”

 

Patrick took a huge bite of the sandwich, moaning as he chewed. Fuck, he was  _ starving.  _ Waving his hand around to indicate he was almost finished chewing and then covered his mouth as he began to speak, still with a bit of food in his mouth. “Like, just pretend,”  _ chew, chew, swallow...gulp of water.  _ “Pretend that you’re talking to someone you just met and knows absolutely  _ nothing  _ about...whatever it is you’re gonna explain.”

 

I mean, that’s pretty much their situation, really. 

 

“Okay, well. You want the long version or the CliffsNotes summation?”

 

Patrick stuffed some chips in his mouth, looking at Pete in confusion. “What the fuck are CliffsNotes?” He swallowed his mouthful (and, boy...has he been doing a lot of _that_ today...hehehe) and continued before Pete could answer. “Whatever. Just give me, like, the super condensed version of the story. I feel another round brewing for after we eat and I don’t wanna spoil it. I’m sure the details can wait.”

 

Pete smirked, playing with the crust of his sandwich. “Okay. So! Long story short…”

 

Patrick listened attentively as Pete explained things. Miss Pam and Pete were both full blooded Shapeshifters and part of a fairly large Pack that extended three neighboring counties. Pete explained that within their kind, they had “dynamics”, biological assignments of Alpha, Beta, Omega, and Delta. Pete was an Omega and Miss Pam an Alpha, as well as an elder within their Pack. She didn’t hold an active position of power, but was highly respected and revered, nonetheless. The Pack’s current Alpha, a 32 year old woman named Astrid, had decided that Pete, a 22 year old Omega, needed to be mated already, and that she wanted to claim him for herself. Pete had been saving himself for when he met “the one”, saying that he was kinda old fashioned in wanting to withhold from most sexual activity before finding his “one true mate”. Astrid was incredibly offended and tried to claim Pete as her mate against his will, resulting in both shifting into wolf form and fighting it out. The Alpha, being almost double Pete’s size, was able to inflict some serious damage to Pete. He was quicker, though, and managed to get away from her and go and find help. He managed to make it to a friend’s house, telling him everything that happened before passing out from pain and blood loss. While he was out, his friend made calls within the Pack and arranged for an emergency meeting. Rape and non-consensual claiming were strictly forbidden, and Astrid was to be taken care of accordingly. Miss Pam came in for the Pack meeting but insisted that Pete be relocated to her home. She lived farthest away from Pack Central and she wanted to make sure that Pete was nowhere near Astrid while he recovered. Being in wolf form helps speed up the healing process, so Pete was going to need at least three to five days staying in full wolf form in order to heal properly. The damage that Astrid did was extensive and would have required a hospital stay, blood transfusions, and possibly surgery if he remained in human form. Miss Pam collected Pete and drove him over to her secluded house on a huge property that had no neighbors for miles, confident that he would be able to remain in wolf form and heal without any interruption or threat of intruder. 

 

And then Patrick showed up and the rest was history. 

 

When Pete was finished, he finally picked up his sandwich and took a huge bite. Patrick had finished his while Pete was talking and was now staring at the older man, playing with the few chips left on his place. “Wow. That is, like, a lot to take in.”

 

Pete shrugged. “Yeah, I guess it is. Sorry bout that. But...I really thought you knew  _ something.  _ I mean, you obviously have some sort of Alpha instincts, even if you’re not a Shifter.”

 

None of this really made sense. It was all storybook shit, folklore and urban legends...it wasn’t rational at all. But...it all  _ felt  _ very real and very correct. 

 

Patrick’s entire life had been filled with insecurities, body image issues, always overthinking things and always questioning himself. For the first time, he went with his gut and ended up having one of the most glorious experiences of his life and meeting someone he just  _ knew  _ would be his forever. So fuck the details. Patrick decided right then and there that he was going to go ahead and follow his gut and just let his instincts work out the rest. 

 

All he knew was when Pete uttered the word “Mate”, Patrick’s entire mind and body agreed. 

 

Taking Pete’s hand, Patrick stood up, pulling Pete to his feet. “Well,  _ Mate.  _ I think we have some time for a few more rounds before my grandmother comes home. My body is telling me I need to prove that you’re  _ mine _ a few more times _.” _

 

“Yours. All yours.” Pete whispered.

  
  


_ And they lived happily ever after.  _

  
  


_ *** _

  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> As always, kudos are lovely but comments are what keeps the writer energized. So don't be stingy with your affections!
> 
> Also, pass by The Laudanum Cafe anytime for stimulating conversation and free (virtual) drinks! You can find me on Tumblr at [LaudanumCafe](http://laudanumcafe.tumblr.com)


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